The Secrets that Consumed You
by skeletonskin
Summary: It's 1987, and Amelia Jones in a young woman struggling with a rough past and a difficult present. Her brother finally convinces her to seek help. Doctor Kirkland gets more than she ever bargained for. Therapists aren't supposed to fall in love with their clients.
1. Gunpowder Memories

_**Warnings for mental health issues and child abuse. Seriously.**_

 **Chapter One: Gunpowder Memories**

 _She's been like this for years  
Dear, calling names, crushing herbs.  
Gambling with the lovers and giving in to the dark._

* * *

"God dammit, Amelia!" Another glass went flying, crashing against the wall just next to her head and shattering. A single shard of glass flew into her hair, still wet from the rain, unkempt and frizzy.

"You _dumb_ shit!" Her father said, face red. His hand reached out, a claw, and gripped her chin like she was a bad dog. His calloused, cold fingers dug into her jaw, drawing dull, tired tears to her eyes.

"I-I'm sorry Papa, I swear it won't happen again. Really, I just needed help some help with math, that's all-" She tried to explain to her father. Seriously, she hadn't been hanging out with anyone or something, she'd just wanted to talk to her teacher after class. But when she'd finally made it outside, her bus had already left, and it was raining. Which left her to finally get home, dripping wet and shielding her textbooks, and walk straight into her father.

"Do you know how disappointed your mother would be? Coming home late, from god knows where, looking like a mess- is this what I pay for you to go to school for? For you to fucking abandon me?" Her grip tightened around her physics textbook at the mention of her mother; that was _low_. Disgusted, he let go of her face.

"I'll try better next time, I swear. I won't be late again." She managed, voice thick.

"You'd better, damnit. I haven't got time for this." He said, shaking a finger at her and turning around to grab a beer off of the counter. Nodding her head, desperately trying to agree, Amelia held back a whimper.

 _Please don't get drunk again,_ she thought half-heartedly, knowing the thought was useless. It would happen anyway.

* * *

"And these kind of things happened… how often, would you say?"

Amelia looked off into the distance, quietly thinking. Her fingers twitched slightly where they rested on her knees. Doctor Kirkland waited patiently, barely making a sound. After a minute or so, Amelia answered.

"Probably once a day during the week… maybe a little less. During the weekend, if he got drinking, it'd be mostly okay. Until, uh, Sunday night. It would all kind of…" she trailed off, uncertain.

Doctor Kirkland tilted her head, a few wisps of loose blond hair shifting, free from her bun. "Yes?" She prompted gently, eyes soft.

"Build up. And explode." Amelia finished softly, her expression distant, like she was somewhere else.

Doctor Kirkland nodded, discreetly making a few notes on her on her sheet. It wouldn't have mattered how discreet or obvious she was, though, because Amelia was far away, mentally. The therapist looked up from her paper to find her patient shaking in her set, fists clenched tight and eyes glazed.

"Amelia. Oi, Amelia." The doctor's voice spoke sharply, trying to cut through her distress. But Amelia took no notice of the voice, either couldn't or wouldn't hear it. Her lips parted slightly, a squeak of a whimper escaping. Doctor Kirkland knew she was reliving something horrible inside her head.

"Amelia, I don't know if you can truly hear me right now, but I'm going to ask you some questions. Alright?"  
There was no response, but she wasn't too surprised.

"What is two plus two?" A short pause, and then she continued.

"What is today's date?" This question, it seemed, Amelia actually made an attempt to answer. Her eyes cleared a bit, darting upwards to meet Doctor Kirkland's. Her mouth opened and closed, not actually speaking but trying to. Doctor Kirkland knew she was coming out of the flashback.

"How many books are on my table?" She asked finally, meeting the blonde's uncertain gaze with steady determination. Amelia swallowed, and responded without really thinking.

"Six."

Pleased, Doctor Kirkland nodded. "Great job, Amelia. Were you remembering something... He did?"

Hesitantly, Amelia nodded. Still, she didn't say anything.

"Okay. Would you rather not talk about it today? We can cover it next week, if you'd like." Doctor Kirkland assured her, trying to assuage any fears she could. Amelia seemed to agree.

"Alright, that's fine. You know, actually, I wanted to lend you this book. After our talk last time, I thought you might really like it. Nearly every space enthusiast does." The therapist picked up a single book off the table, it's cover decorated with spacey red and black hues. Amelia took it into her gently trembling hands, turning it over curiously. Doctor Kirkland smiled, happy to distract the young woman from her memory.

"Cosmos- oh! I think I've heard of this one. Th-thank you, Doctor Kirkland. Wow." She said gratefully, running her fingers over the spine of the book. Doctor Kirkland smiled gently in response.

"Not at all, Amelia. You'll have to tell me what you think about it!"

"Definitely."

The therapist made a note on her sheet to ask Amelia about flashbacks next time.

* * *

Walking home was nearly always an exercise in self control. A passing stranger coughed too violently, and she'd find herself flinching just as hard. A man selling oranges at the corner, waving one in her face, and she'd be caught between punching him and curling into a ball.

On this particular day, a woman behind her nearly tripped, catching herself before falling, and clipping Amelia's calf in the process. Not noticing, the woman walked on, but Amelia completely froze up. Jarring memories came back, she tried not to pay attention, she really did. But- _his hands were always so rough and harsh against her body-he was never careful with her-_ her breathing became ragged. Coughing and attempting to discreetly wipe her eyes, Amelia slowly began walking again. Luckily, she'd already gotten close to her apartment by now, so the rest of the walk wasn't long.

At long last, she made it through her door and shut it behind her, relieved. All the lights were off, but she didn't bother turning any on. Tiredly, she slid off her shoes and clicked the flashing button on her answering machine, turning the volume up so she could hear it while she changed. Heading into her bedroom, the recordings began playing. An automated voice started.

" **You have 3 new messages. Message one, begin:"**.There was another click, and a man with a commercialized voice started talking. "If you've got insurance debts up to your ears, then do I have a deal for…" Amelia droned the rest of this out- she had no use for telemarketers. Then another click sounded, and the automated voice announced a second message. This time, it was from her brother, Matthew.

"Hey 'Mia! Matt here. I just wanted to check up on you, and tell you… well, I'm really proud that you started seeing a therapist-professionally. I think it's really gonna help you."

Amelia paused in the middle of pulling on a t-shirt. That's right, she'd forgotten that she'd told Matt about therapy. He was always so worried, concerned that something was seriously wrong, after… well. Finally, he'd convinced her to see someone about it. But there wasn't anything wrong with her, really. Matt was just overreacting, as usual.

At least, that's what she kept telling herself.

"Call me back when you can. Love you!"

Matt's message made her smile, forever grateful for the goofy blond who always managed to understand her. At least someone would always care about her. Pulling up the waistband on her sweatpants, Amelia walked back into the main area. The final message started playing, some advertisement again. She hit the delete button, and the automated voice spoke.

" **No new messages.** "

Sighing heavily, Amelia sank down into a chair, pressing her head against its back. A chill ran down her spine, but she ignored the draft in her apartment, happy to be alone. At last, blessed solitude and silence. She wasn't working tonight, so she was free to relax. Looking briefly at the clock, she planned out an imaginary day. It was 4:30-ish, so that left time to go out and eat at the new diner down the block. Supposedly they had _great_ burgers. Then she could walk through the park, feed some ducks, maybe go for a run!

Of course, she wouldn't actually do any of that. More likely, she would stay home, order some shitty food, and pick at it a little bit.

Maybe the Twilight Zone was on-that was usually pretty good. Spooky, though.

* * *

 _Hello everybody! I'm very excited to be starting my second story, and yes, it is in the same universe as "If all of my answers...". If you haven't read that yet, there's no obligation, but I think it might add some cool factor or depth to reading_ _this._

 _The quote from the beginning of the chapter is from Emperor, a song by Wilsen._

 _I'm really excited to continue writing this, but PLEASE. If you have any serious issues with child abuse and think this story might not be for you, then make the choice that will be best for you. The story will continue to have these themes._

 _Anyway, I really hope you enjoyed this chapter! Please review, favorite, follow, or whatever you'd like!_ _I love you guys,_

 _~Skeleton_


	2. Chance Encounter

_I suppose I should add that the child abuse, rape, and mental health warning goes for the entire story._

* * *

 **Chance Encounter**

Amelia awoke to the eerie sounds of the ending of the Twilight Zone. In the darkness of the evening, the music seemed to float around her ears. Amelia's mind woke slowly as she gently rubbed at her eyes. A yawn stretched her mouth open and she glanced at the clock on the wall. It read 10:35… how could she be so tired already? Shrugging in defeat, Amelia stood up to get ready for bed. Brushing her teeth, she swished the minty flavor around her teeth, finally spitting into the sink. She set down her toothbrush in the medicine cabinet, clicked it shut, and tapped on the mirror three times. _Tap-tap-tap._

It was just a dumb habit, really, but Amelia somehow found it comforting and grounding. It gave her a sense of reality. The glass on that mirror was real, her reflection, tired and dreary, was real. She slipped under the thin covers of her bed, curling her toes. Her fingers tapped against her thighs in boredom. _Tap-tap-tap. Tap-tap-tap._ Grounding. _I am real. I am here._

Somehow, during the day, she was always either sleepy or dead-tired, but the moment her body got under the covers, she was wide awake. Sighing, Amelia closed her eyes and attempted to find rest. The darkness inside her eyelids didn't help much, and she eventually found herself simply staring blankly at the ceiling. The cotton sheets were thin and barely took away the night's chill, but she didn't bother huddling into a ball or getting a blanket. The energy required wasn't really worth it.

Thoughts milled around in her head, drifting like planks of wood in the stormy ocean. Eventually, the depth of the night pulled her under, and she was tugged into the rolling waves of fitful sleep. Unfortunately, sleeping goes all too often hand in hand with dreaming.

* * *

His arms were snakes, glittering in the canopy of the jungle, emerald green and snaking around her chest, caressing and touching in every wrong way. His words were hisses, whispered into her ears and making her squirm.

 _You're mine. Your body is mine. You're beautiful, did you know?_

But suddenly the snake turned into a constrictor, it's body around her chest pulling tight and tighter, choking her and crushing her.

 _What the fuck are you thinking? You're worthless, didn't you know?_

The jungle morphed, twisting and collapsing on itself until it was an inky-brown puddle. The snake's head rose out of it, slowly, like some kind of morose jack-in-the-box. It's eyes were stones of cruelty, a single bead of blood dripping from it's head, jewel-like. Then the snake lunged, its stony eyes filling her vision with a hiss and a crack and-

Her sheets were soaked in sweat again, twisted around her body like a straightjacket.

Her breaths were uneven, coming fast and shallow. Her lungs could barely inflate because it felt like bricks and wet cement was filling them, covering them. Her fists were clenched hard enough to bruise and draw blood but she could barely feel it. She squeezed her fists rhythmically in an attempt to calm herself. _Squeeze-squeeze-squeeze. I am real. I am h-I am he-_

But it did nothing, she was still drowning in shallow water.

Eventually, within the hour, her breathing became more normal. Her stiff limbs collapsed inside the fortress her sweaty sheets had become. Twisting to view the clock, she found that it was nearly 4 AM.

"Fuck." She said aloud. Well, there really was no point in trying to go back to sleep now, was there. After a few minutes of struggling out of bed, she managed to get out, standing on shaky legs.

"Nothing better to do than shower, I guess." She found herself saying, grabbing her towel.

* * *

The faucet turned with a squeak, cold water slowly turning to hot. Amelia, knowing she had only a few minutes before it went back to cold, hopped in. Hastily shampooing her hair, she then set to work on her skin. Scrubbing, scrubbing until everything dirty came off. Could she scrub away every poisoned memory? Could she scrub away every poisoned handprint on her body? She could only ever try.

Soon, she realized the water had been cold for minutes and her skin was pink and raw, like beef in a meat grinder. She quickly finished up her shower and turned off the water.

Pulling her uniform out of her closet, she laid the red polo and black pants on her bed. Working at 7-11 kind of sucked and was boring, but at least it paid the bills. And, working as a cashier in a place where most people came through most likely either tired, hammered, or pissy, led to minimal conversation with people she didn't know or didn't like. Which was optimum, at the moment. Amelia checked the clock once more- 5:15. Damn, that shower was longer than intended. Her shift began at 5:45, so she needed to get her ass in gear.

A little more than five minutes later, Amelia was locking the door to her apartment, a cup of coffee in hand. The tiny piece of metal slipped out of the keyhole with a small tug, it was getting rusty inside.

A sudden voice, quiet and soft, came from behind her.

"Hello, Amelia."

It nearly made her heart jump out of her chest, a bit of coffee spilling out of her cup. She turned around to find Anya Braginski behind her, standing a dash too close to be comfortable. Heart still hammering, she attempted to even out her breathing.

"A-anya! Didn't see you there, s-sorry about that!" She murmured nervously. Anya at least looked abashed, realizing she'd done something wrong. Amelia felt a little bad, knowing she'd moved from Russia only recently and had been having a tough time acclimating. Some social cues, like personal space, were obviously a little foreign to her.

"I am sorry, Amelia. Did not mean to scare you, um. Are you okay? Last night I was hearing yelling from your apartment." The walls were like paper here, of course she'd heard. She didn't even realize she'd been screaming, though. Her heart skipped a beat, anxious.

"O-oh, that! I was watching a scary movie, ha. I didn't realize I was so loud!" She said apologetically, internally cursing herself. Anya looked slightly doubtful but nodded slowly.

"Alright then. Have good day, Amelia!" Amelia nodded, offering a small smile in return.

"You too Anya." But Anya was already gone, walking briskly down the hallway, buttoned up coat swishing slightly in the dim light of the hall.

Amelia sighed, happy that the encounter was over. It wasn't that she didn't like Anya- quite the opposite, in fact. She was very nice, albeit somewhat weird. Nonetheless, she always had a smile or a respectful nod for everyone.

It was more that Amelia was a horrible conversationalist, and something about Anya always seemed to bug her out, particularly after last night. Honestly, it wasn't even 6 AM yet and she was already disposed for the day to be over.

The early morning street was mostly free of people, the sky still dark. It was peaceful and quiet, the gentle hum of cars passing by filling her tired mind. Taking a deep breath in a futile attempt to clear her head, she began walking.

* * *

The Slurpee machine sloshed and hummed, the artificial colors popping brightly in the dull boredom of the store- cherry red, electric blue, and bright orange. Amelia found herself propping her head up on her hands, eyes drooping. The bell in the door tinkled lightly, alerting her to someone's presence. A short man walked in, one hand in his pocket. He was probably in his early twenties, and as expected, he looked pretty damn tired.

His short frame disappeared behind the rack of drinks for a moment, only the top of his head visible. Amelia's mind wandered, while he picked up a few items.

Eventually, he wordlessly set a Gatorade, skittles, and a pack of Marlboro's down on the counter. Amelia eyed the cigarettes with wariness but scanned them all through. She dug a small plastic bag out from behind the counter and held her hand out.

"3.77, please." The man dug out a worn wallet, handing her a four singles. She silently gave him the change and nodded a goodbye. Her eyes drooped once more as he exited, already opening the cigarettes. Her nose wrinkled in disgust. She could never look at the sticks of tobacco without remembering the scent she walked into every afternoon as a kid- thick of smoke and alcohol. The scent that followed her around school and stuck to her clothes, the scent that stained her skin at night when he grabbed her.

A sudden whirring sound alerts her to the fact that someone else had clocked in. Not to disappoint, Francis stepped into her field of vision, blonde hair tied into a small ponytail to keep it out of food.

"Ah! Amelia, ma chérie! Good morning!" He said cheerfully, respecting her personal space. Francis had learned long ago about her bubble. That was one of the reasons she liked Francis so much- he never questioned her need for limited body contact, only respected it.

She gave him a sarcastic glare, sighing. "I'll never understand how you're always so cheery and awake at 6 fucking AM, Francis. _Please,_ tell me your secrets."

"Beautiful women and unlimited coffee, dear. And yet, I'll never understand how you're always so tired throughout the day. Are you taking care of yourself?" Some real concern leaked through the joking tone in his voice.

She forced a small smile onto her face to brush away his concerns. "Of course, of course. I just haven't been sleeping well, that's all. But how's your art project going?"

His eyes lit up with the mention of his current project, and that was all it took for the conversation to head elsewhere.

Francis was still deep in conversation about his project (not that Amelia minded, of course) when the bell tinkled again. Her back was to the door, though, and she didn't bother turning around to see who it was.

"Seriously, I think my professor is going to love this one. I found a model from-Alice?" He said suddenly, interrupting himself.

A familiar english voice responded. "Frog?" Amelia turned around to find Doctor Kirkland standing there, a paper coffee cup from the counter in hand. She looked just as surprised to find Amelia working at 7-11 as Amelia felt seeing her new (and first) therapist in her place of employment.

"I… didn't know you worked here, Francis." She said slowly, trying to figure out what to say.

"Oui," He said, confusion lacing his tone. "Since my first year of uni. Surprised you haven't come in here before now." He looked between Amelia and Docto-er, _Alice,_ obviously still puzzled.

"Do you two know each other?"

Amelia and the therapist looked at each other, a slight air of awkwardness.

"Yes." Amelia said just as Alice spoke, "No.".

They looked at each other again, expressions unsure. Francis, ever the gentleman, suddenly announced that he had to check the Slurpee machine.

"So… I see that you know Francis?" Amelia asked, unsure.

"Yeah, we kind of grew up together. His parents were friends with mine, and all that." She nodded in understanding.

"Uh, Doctor K-"

"Please, just call me Alice. We aren't in my office right now." Alice said, coughing into her fist.

"Oh. Ok. Well, what do you want me to tell Francis? He's definitely going to ask me how I know you…".

Alice shrugged, looking thoughtful.

"If you feel comfortable, you can tell him the truth, that I'm your therapist. If not, tell him… oh! Book club!"

Amelia looked doubtful. "Bookclub?

"Yes, that's perfect. Francis hates the book club, so he never comes! He'd never know if you were in it or not." Alice explained.

Amelia could barely suppress a snort. "You're in a book club?" She asked, trying not to laugh.

Alice crossed her arms grumpily, thick eyebrows. "Yes, and it's _very_ fun. What's wrong with enjoying literature?"

"No, no, nothing like that! It's just that, well, it's super nerdy. And I love it."

Alice blushed at this, and made no further comments since just then, Francis returned and another customer walked in, making a beeline for the cigarettes near the register. Francis and Alice moved aside so he could grab and purchase them. They exchanged money and products, Amelia eyeing the cigarettes once more with outright disgust. As the man left, Amelia took the chance to watch Alice talk to Francis. Her long, light blonde hair, tied into two thick ponytails, swished a bit as she spoke animatedly to Francis. Her face was strong in structure but something about it seemed inherently soft and kind, like a mother. Alice turned towards her, noticing her staring. Amelia blushed and averted her gaze. It wasn't like she was doing anything _weird,_ of course not. Just. Looking at Alice. That was all.

The two friends walked back to the cashier.

"Well, I've got to go now. Bye, Amelia. I'll see you next week!" Amelia nodded in agreement, ignoring Francis's stare.

"Bye, D-Alice!"

* * *

 **Notes: _ma chérie_ means my dear in French.**

 **Ah, FINALLY, here is chapter two! This took me forever to write and I really don't know why! But I really hope you enjoyed it! It makes me super duper happy when you review, so please do that, if you'd like, to give me some feedback and to motivate me! Or perhaps a fav or follow?**

 **Also, here's a hilarious thought for you: Francis in a 7-11 outfit. Honestly I can easily see him taking it home on the first day and trying to modify it to make it more _à la mode_.**

 **And that's all folks! Thank you so much for taking the time to read!**

 **~Skeleton**


End file.
